


graze the edge of the sun

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, M/M, Space Stations, Spaceships, also adding characters and tags as i go along, lots of au tags. for something that has no specific au tag....., space themes if you Could Not Tell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-13 05:22:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13563765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: You slightly underestimated how long this trip was going to last.





	1. is there a north in space

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY so. I don't really have like a super detailed plan on where I want to go with this, kind of just having fun with friends (thank u batter for betaing lmfao) writing bullshit, so i don't really know what to tell you here!!! I'm excited to see where this goes though, and hopefully you'll be too! :D

The report comes in not long after your last one is done and dealt with. Private company, very expensive load. Load in question being a single human who apparently required five bodyguards along with him on the station, as though the security and force fields wasn’t enough. 

Still, you’re not one to argue what you ship across the galaxy, and considering the sum they’re willing to pay for this, you don’t question their precaution. Only thing you’d found off-putting about the whole ordeal was how discreet the company-- Crocker Corp, that is-- wanted to keep the whole thing. They must have chosen you mainly because of you not sticking out at all, then raised their eyebrows at your track record of good piloting. The ship’s set to take off in the early morning, and though you’re not too keen to be ripped from precious, precious ground territory again on such short notice, there’s also not much you can do about it, because you really need the money. 

You just hope you didn’t agree to something stupid, so you don’t have to endure endless “I-told-you-so’s” when Jade claims this is a stupid fucking idea. 

“It’s not going to be for that long, though!” you say, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair.

“John, no offense, but a _lot_ of bullshit could go down during a very little amount of time, I have stains on my walls from your pranks to back that up,” she says, jabbing an accusing finger at you from the other side of the screen, “and this will be for a whole _month!”_

“You’re being unreasonable, Jade.” you huff. 

“No, I’m being your sister, and I care for you and want you back on earth!” She sighs, defeated, “It’s been a long, long while since you visited me and Bec, you know.” and you feel a pang of guilt rise like bile in your throat, because she’s right. 

Ever since you left earth in order to work full-time at the north border, visits had grown both farther in between and oftentimes cut short because of your job. You wouldn’t have been bothered by it if it wasn’t for the distance it put between you and your family. You never liked being around too many people at once and the lingering, claustrophobic sense that you were stuck to the planet had been with you ever since day one one. You couldn’t wait to leave it behind, but your family wasn’t as eager. 

“Yeah. Jade, I’m sorry,” you relent, uncrossing your arms and looking down at your hands now folded in your lap. “I promise, after this is over I’ll come visit you. And for much longer than I did last time.” 

She splits her mouth into a grin which shows off her sharp canines, “You better! It’s sooo boring when you’re not around to disrupt the foliage sometimes! The other botanists at the facility are all so serious all the time, it’s really stupid and unnecessary. Serious nerds are the worst!” 

You laugh, shaking your head at her, “How do you even get any work done with that attitude?” 

She winks at you, “by being awesome, obviously! I literally graduated as the valedictorian of my class, what did you expect?” 

“Not much,” you joke, and she sticks her tongue out at you in return. 

The both of you trade highlights from the last week, complaining about work for most part and taking turns to jab at each other for the rest. It’s nice, and you’re taken aback for a second because you really _do_ miss Jade more than you’d initially thought. Even though you like your job, you sometimes wish you were a kid again and still lived together under the same roof. You miss being able to talk like this, easy and never draining. 

Jade stifles a yawn behind her hand and rests her head back against the chair. “It’s getting late. For both of us.” 

“Yeah. But unlike you, I have work in the morning.” 

Jade sits up suddenly in her seat, eyes wide, “Oh! I forgot, oh my gosh John go to bed, my plants and I will be here once you get back.” 

You nod. “Once I’m back, I promise. I will visit.” 

She smiles, and you both bid farewell for the month-gap that approaches. You’re glad to have a sister that you miss so much. 

\---

In no universe would you ever consider yourself a morning person. This planet, dubbed Salt Hell by you and literally anyone who’s been here longer than a day, accentuates this in the way that the sun reflects on the salt planes that surround the landing deck. You’re glad that there’s production of yellow-tinted glasses for just that reason, because you would have gone blind at this rate without them. There’s not many other people milling around, all of them busy with repairing and cleaning other, bigger-brand ships. 

You’re standing with your hands clasped together behind your back, probably fooling everyone into thinking you’re some kind of professional (you totally look like one in the suit and hat uniform ensemble) and trying not to look too tired. Behind you, the ship is ready to launch whenever you are, having got the all-clear from the command center. 

Who you assume is your employer, a woman apparently named ‘Jane’ (last name left blank), strides out onto the deck wearing a distinctly red business suit. All five bodyguards are behind her, with the man of the hour (aka your cargo) in the middle clutching a duffle bag. He looks a little out of place, honestly, because everyone involved so far is dressed in formal working attires, and he himself has a clashingly orange hoodie with slim jeans, as well as… triangle glasses. 

Ooookay. Not the weirdest thing you’ve seen, but still up there on the list. 

Jane stops in front of you, smiling pleasantly at you before sticking out her hand for you to shake. “I’m thankful you were able to accept my terms on such short notice, er…” 

“John Egbert,” You say as you reach out to grasp it, giving her a firm squeeze like your dad always used to, amiable as always.

“Ah, well, John--” she withdraws her hand and gestures at the ship, “assuming everything is ready then I wouldn’t want to keep you any longer than I have to. The ‘cargo’ so to speak only has to board and, hopefully, this will all go smoothly.” 

You nod, “I assure you, it will.” 

And with that, Jane stalks off toward the orange guy, placing a hand behind his back and moving with him up the walkway. You catch the guy leaning down to whisper something in her ear before they disappear into the ship, bodyguards staying back on the deck, to, well. Guard, and stuff. 

You send a signal to the command center that you’re set to go.

\---

It’s not long before you’re out of orbit, engines full throttle and auto-pilot set to make the ship remain on course. Stars flash past you and you settle fully into the seat of the cockpit. 

Jane herself isn’t coming with on the trip, only there to trade words with the orange guy before leaving along with the guards-- which doesn’t surprise you but does kind of disappoint. She seemed nice enough.The orange dude (you really should have fucking asked Jane what his name was) has yet to leave his quarters, and because it’s already been six hours on the trip so far you’re assuming he just isn’t one to chat it up with strangers. That’s fine by you. Hopefully he doesn’t mind the tiny room he got. The ship isn’t really made for hosting a lot of people for a long time, with only two small rooms supposed to be for two co-pilots (which you haven’t ever needed before), a kitchen, and a storage area taking up most of the place. And even that area is fairly small, the ship being built for fast deliveries more than excessive amounts of cargo.

It’s not until a few hours later that you set to prepare some lunch for yourself. You hazard to knock on the guy’s door, but didn’t get a reply. Hm. 

He’s really going to miss out, the food you have right now is pretty fresh, the other shit you bought weeks ago is all very long-lasting stuff, which basically translates to ‘will keep you alive but costs your taste-buds’. They’re nutrient bricks, really, and taste like they sound. 

You take the ladder down to the kitchen below the cockpit. It’s tiny, a single fold-out table on one wall, the kitchen on another, and a giant window along the far wall just like in the room above. It probably would have made a prettier view should you have been flying beside a planet. Oh well. 

Even though your dad was prone to making pretty good food, following with an overzealous baking project every goddamn day, his finesse for cooking never seemed to have rubbed off on you. For most of the time you just microwave stuff and cut up vegetables you think works with it. Today, you open the fridge and grab the package of tortellini you’ve got stored-- it’s easy to make, even though it sure sounds and looks fancy. It doesn’t take much time to cook it over the stove, and afterwards you follow your dad’s example and add a dash of pesto from the jar. 

The smell is fucking amazing. Apparently, the dude above seems to think the same thing, because you hear the sound of feet against metal, before they stop above the ladder. You walk over and look up through the hole, and smile up at his blank face. 

“Did the smell of my completely incredible tortellini finally catch your attention?” 

The guy snorts, says “sure” and grabs the sides of the ladder. Instead of stepping down he fucking, slides down like some sort of off-brand ninja. Faces you, and gives you a nod. 

“Dirk.” 

You grin, finally glad to have his name, “I’m John! Nice to meet you.” 

“I know your name,” he says, “I heard you talk to Jane earlier.” He walks past you and sits gingerly down at the other side of the table, right at the edge like he’s ready to spring up at a moment’s notice. 

“Oh.” well okay. 

There’s a tense silence over lunch which you don’t manage to snap out of. Dirk hasn’t really said or done anything wrong (sans the inherent awkwardness), and he quietly finishes his plate along with you. He’s just. A presence in the room which you can’t take your eyes off. You get the feeling his focus is on you as well, and you’re not liking the feeling of being weighed, judged. To fill the silence you try to start conversation, once. 

“So… How are you liking space? Is this the longest trip you’ve been on so far?” 

“It’s alright.” he says, with the disinterest of someone who’s got better shit to do, “And, no.” 

You kept to yourself after that, and Dirk didn’t seem to mind. After you’re both finished he offers to wash the dishes, but you wave him off. You may not have gotten the ability to cook from your dad, but you’ll be damned if you didn’t inherit his manners. Dirk’s a guest, technically, and you’ll treat him as one. So he disappears into his room, shutting the door behind him. It’s probably for the best, so you don’t embarrass yourself any further. 

After the dishes are all dealt with and leftovers stowed away in the fridge, you return to your seat, sinking into it with a sigh. This was going to be a long, long trip if Dirk was going to be like that the whole time. You should really have brought with you something to work on in the meanwhile, but all you’ve got on board is your old, _old_ video games saved on a chip in your room’s drawer. Must be at least seventy of them on there. You don’t really feel like playing them over again, though. 

You consider turning in, but discard the thought almost immediately because you’re not even tired, and back home it wouldn’t be more than 3pm. Damn the dark void outside which tricks you into thinking it’s nighttime. 

In the end you just pull out a pair of headphones from underneath the glove department (you think it’s hilarious they’re still called that) and lean back in your chair listening to music as the stars pass you by. You drift out of mind for the most part, listening to an old playlist that contained songs made by ancient composers. While you still lived with dad and took piano lessons, you used to practice by learning these songs and playing them over and over again. You kind of miss having a grand piano in your room like then, but you’ve long given up on the dream of having one by yourself. Your tiny apartment on salt hell barely fits you, much less a fucking piano. It’s unlikely you’ll ever have the money to get a bigger place, or the time to play, anyways. 

It always comes down to that in the end. Money, and why you don’t have any. Time, and that you can’t spare much of it. 

You’re half-listening to the end of a movie score, half grumbling to yourself when a sudden hand lands on your shoulder and startles you out of your train of thought. 

You pause the music and pull your headphones off to glare at Dirk, who doesn’t seem bothered at having scared you at all. 

“What.” You prompt, trying to sound flat and instead ending up sounding exasperated. 

He looks down at the control board in front of you, then back at you, “This isn’t a cargo ship, is it.” 

You stare at him, confused, before it hits you, he’s right. Originally, it wasn’t meant to transport cargo, sure, but it’s since been heavily modified to be of that use. That doesn’t really… make sense for him to point out though. Maybe he doesn’t mean it that way?

“It’s a cargo ship, it clearly transports cargo,” you say, “which is why I’m transporting you, the cargo, in the ship.” 

He gives you a look through the shades like you just claimed the universe existed inside a frog.

“I meant that it’s not supposed to be. The controls are wrong, half of the command points that are supposed to be on the left side on the control panel are nonfunctional,” he says, motioning with a hand, “they’re meant to be for a cannon. I noticed the cargo area is also way smaller, the space much more compressed than it should be, obviously meant to hold the weight of a beam cannon. The ship in general is just really fucking small for a supposed cargo ship.” 

Well, okay. “Sure, it wasn’t one to begin with.” 

“Right.” He says, and stands there expectant like you’ve got another thing to say about what this ship is and what it isn’t so he can prove you wrong again.

“But it is one now…” is all you come up with, and you swear you see his eyebrow twitch indignantly. 

“This was meant for battlefields, to fight in.” he continues, as though you’re supposed to know what he means by that.

“Dirk… um. I didn’t like, rob this off a valiant fighter or whatever, if that’s what you’re mad about.” 

“I’m not-” 

“Literally only reason I even have this instead of a real cargo ship is because it was sold cheap as dust to me by a troll woman who seemed to want to get rid of it as quickly as possible. There wasn’t anything wrong with it except for the original function being useless to me, so I renovated it by gifting the cannon to the mechanic who did it for me. “ 

“Oh,” he says, “I thought it was yours from the beginning.” 

“You guessed wrong in that case.”

“Still… this is a really good fighters model, you shouldn’t have messed with it like that.” 

“Okay? Hey can I ask why you know so much about those anyway? What are you like, a mechanic yourself or something?” 

“No, I’m not.” 

You frown at his sudden silence. This guy seriously just info-dumped you about the ethics of renovating an old spaceship but immediately backtracks once any focus lands on him..

“How, then?” 

“I just like to read about them.” 

You don’t really believe that at all, but you relent with a sigh. “If you say so. Thanks… for telling me, I guess?” 

“No problem.” he says, and nods at you before he turns to walk away. You follow him with your gaze until he disappears into his room and shuts his door behind him, and you’re left blinking at a metal wall. 

_What the fuck._

You have no idea what that guy’s deal is. This is your ship, what does he know anyway? He’s obviously younger than you, likely in his early twenties while you’re in your mid thirties, what kind of experience does he have flying any ships? You’re kind of offended. This is _your_ ship. You can’t believe you’re going to share a month of travel with him. 

You bury your head in your hands. What the hell did you sign up for?


	2. station contemplation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I guess it's... bonding...

The three days after the departure is spent doing the same thing you always do on your jobs: nothing interesting or worth noting whatsoever. You manage to organize your spices in the drawer underneath the stove, first by alphabetical order and then color. But that gets boring as quickly as it came to your mind to do it, so after that you sat playing games for the most part and slept through the rest. Not really bothering to get out of the pilot seat to sleep because it wasn’t like Dirk was going to come out and shame you for it. Not only because he doesn’t seem the type to give a shit about societal norms, but because you haven’t seen him at all lately.

Actually he rarely left the room anymore after the last conversation the two of you had, only showing up for meals when you call his name and then immediately disappearing afterwards. On one hand it was kind of a relief, because you really don’t know what the fuck to make of the guy, but on the other... you wish you had someone to talk with! You like being left to your own thoughts, but you were sort of hoping to get to talk to Jade and Dad for a while before you set out again on another trip. It’s boring without those two to stir up the days. 

You don’t like thinking on that for too long, though. Missing them makes you all tired and stuff, so you continue drifting off to sleep with your headphones on to quell the hum of the generators, and leaving thoughts behind you. 

It’s only on the fourth day, not soon after you wake up from a “nap”, that you get to do something besides fuckall. 

One downside to your beloved ship is that it needs to charge way more often than normal cargo ships do. It can go great distances at a faster rate-- at the cost of stopping more regularly. Though you can’t say you mind much, because that only allows you more time to buy some snacks along the way, and in some cases when you go to especially interesting places, souvenirs to bring home. 

The charging stop this time is pretty run-down, only other people around that you could see around was an old lady replacing a drained hyperdrive battery (who the fuck uses an unchargeable battery for a hyperdrive) and the shopkeeper inside the store. It’s a really tiny station, compared to how big they usually get. From where you’re sitting beside the charging terminals you have a good outlook of the place. The whole “deck” is shaped like a kind of T, the items and snack store at the shorter end of it and a landing site that only seemed to fit three ships maximum at the other. The white floors and insipid architecture strikes you as impersonal, almost clinical, but even then you quickly found yourself taking a liking to the place. The view was... unreal.

Situated in the moon-belt of a gigantic, blue gas planet, you couldn’t stop finding new things to look at, even though the station itself was about as interesting as drywall. Everything from the way one of the moons glistened almost iridescent from the distant sun, to the swirling storm patterns of the planet itself. 

You wonder why they’d pay you so much to travel through such a silent part of the galaxy. And why, specifically, Dirk is heading there. 

_Speak of the devil,_ you think to yourself bemusedly when you hear the careful tap-tap of sneakers against metal that you’ve come used to hearing at this point. You turn your head to see his tall shape stand there behind you, eyes taking in the station. 

“Good morning,” You tell him warmly, and his focus trains on you.

“It is.” is all Dirk says in reply, the words sounding uncertain coming from him. You smile and look away from him, back at the charging meter, where you see it’s at 98 percent. 

“I was going to buy something to snack on from the station after this is fully charged,” you say, motioning at the terminal, “if you wanted something.” 

He’s silent for a second, before he steps forward beside you and sits down, right at the edge of the ship’s platform. “I don’t really know what kind of snacks there are available.”

“There’s usually some pringles, if you like that.” 

“Who the fuck doesn’t like pringles though, is the question,” he says, “Swear there’s like fifty thousand flavor tubes at this point to accommodate the tentacled ones in the furthest ring. Even they love the stuff.” 

You giggle at that and lean back on your arms to slouch against the steps, not caring that your uniform was beyond rumpled at this point. “Yeah! I still have no idea how they’ve managed to stay around for so long. You’d think at one point people would grow tired of them, but no, now the entire universe and everyone inhabiting it are eating the stuff.” 

He makes one off-handed comment about “mind control powder” and it doesn’t take long before the two of you are sitting there audibly trying to one-up one another’s conspiracy theories while the ship charges. At one point Dirk claims them to not truly exist, but rather are a mass-hallucination created by the air at charging stations meant to gain profit to Kellogg’s without having to lose stock. You listen to him list the reasons that he just seemingly pulled out of his ass like he’s had them rehearsed before, while you count the craters visible on the red moon nearby. Wondering where he got the urge to talk from. 

He pauses for a moment, might have noticed you weren’t replying any longer, and you brave to breach the subject. “Hey... how come you don’t talk about what you do? I don’t mean to pry or anything,” you say and glance his way, “just curious since you seemed so well versed with… tech and stuff..” 

Dirk looks suspicious, and you watch the tension that had slowly drained from his shoulders return with his growing caution. He seems to contemplate an answer for a moment, then simply says, “I don’t have anything interesting to tell.” 

And you’d call bullshit, but before you can say anything he interjects, “what about you? I don’t know anything regarding who you are. You’re just my pilot, dude.” 

You balk, putting your hands up defensively, “I know! But that doesn't mean we can’t be friends, right? Friends are always nice to have.”

It’s not really like you to be so stubborn, you’re aware, and you’d let him do his lonely weirdguy thing until this whole delivery is over, if it wasn’t for the fact that you were _so fucking bored of it already._ You swear it’s genetic, some kind of inherited allergic reaction every time you’re supposed to be Doing Nothing and Sitting Still, your body completely rejects the message and does the exact and polar opposite. You blame Jade’s side of the family for making you like this. 

Dirk side-eyes you, that unnerving fucking focus on you again peeking out from behind the shades, boring into you with a cold scrutiny. Gives off the impression that he’s considering your words a little too carefully, weighing his options.

Eventually, he shifts oh-so-slightly so you can no longer catch his gaze, and mumbles a reluctant “Sure.” 

You grin at him, and lean back, satisfied. “Awesome! I’m sure we’ll be great buds at the end of this expedition. Maybe... you can even help me cook sometime!” 

He makes a grimace at that, and you pretend not to hear his grumbling about “being a guest” as you get up to unplug the charger from your battery-drive, which now laid at a hundred percent. Score. 

\---

You don’t end up buying any pringles in the end, because to both of your dismay it turns out they weren’t as popular this side of the galaxy as you initially thought. 

“This is some straight up fucking moonshine,” Dirk spits, and grabs a bag of (probably?) gummy worms off a shelf. “I won’t bear it.” 

You ignore him and pray the shopkeeper didn’t hear him.

The isles stretch out before you, filled with gadgets and ship replacement parts, plastic containers filled with multitudes of colorful liquids of what you assume is different coolants and fuels among them. Air fresheners hang along the far wall, shaped like planets and the iconic pine tree here and there. You decide to take one that smells of cucumber and aloe vera, since it always gets kind of stagnant inside the ship. The scent reminds you of the soap Jade has at her house. The shopkeeper glances at you over their screen when you pick up a sort of...gluing tool- or well, one of their many eyes flicker up to watch you, while the rest seem to be fully immersed in whatever they’re reading. It’s a little unnerving. You put the tool back. It’s probably not good for pranks anyways. 

By the time you’re done (a packet of foreign candy you thought seemed interesting to try, air freshener and a lemon soda in your hands) Dirk looks to have raided an entire fucking isle. 

“I’m not paying for that.” Is the first thing you say to him as he hauls it all onto the counter. The alien (aliens? They have three heads so you’re honest to god not sure) looks up from their screen and sticks out a hand that looks uncomfortably bone-like and starts ringing up the items, including yours.

Dirk gives you a blank face before he pulls out a fucking- a _stack_ of dollars out of his hoodie pocket, counts a few and draws them out to hand to the cashier. The alien snatches them up and later returns the change before immediately looking down at their screen again ( you wonder what the fuck could be so interesting that keeps their attention for so long). Dirk pushes everything into a bag with a fell swoop and hugs it to his chest. Looks expectantly at you. 

“Are we done here?” 

“Um… I guess so? Only need to get the ship ready.” You say, and as you walk to the door he follows behind on your heels. 

“Right.” He mumbles, “Don’t want to waste time.” 

\---

Dirk, for some reason, decides to join you at takeoff.

He sits in the second pilot chair, watching you meddle with the command panel as he nibbles on a cookie from the snack bag. Interjects occasionally to offer you the chipped-off chocolate bits because the asshole doesn’t even like chocolate chip cookies. You ask him why he bought them and he tells you he just wanted to try them out.

“You’ve never tried chocolate chip cookies?” You frown at him. What is he, a robot? Everyone has tried those (including the tentacled ones). 

“Of course I have. Just never anything but homemade. Jane- you’ve met her- always made them herself for us. These are a lot... soggier than hers.” 

“They are kinda soggy” you agree, “Did she usually bake for you?” 

“When she wasn’t busy.” 

You’re guessing they had to be pretty close, then. In your family- something that your dad told you- making food for someone was the best way to show them that you cared for them. You’ve never really had anyone around to get close to and give a shit about (except for Jade and dad, of course, but they’re different) so you’re not sure if that’s just you guys. Still, everyone likes good food and stuff. 

You click the final safety lock shut and sit back in your seat. “That’s nice of her, my dad does that a lot too,” you tell him. “We’re ready to go, by the way.” 

Outside the glass window the landing deck lights up with the usual affirmation that the ship isn’t anchored to it any longer, and your control panel reacts to your hands landing on the wheel with all your coordinates and map notations popping up in the cockpit window. It’s like a computer screen except also, an actual window. It comes in handy. 

“We’re _almost_ halfway from the final destination, now.” You tell him after checking the map. “Still a lot of ways to go, though!” 

“I guess,” says Dirk. 

It isn’t long before you’re set off, ship sailing out the landing port with ease and leaving the oxygen border-bubble thing far behind in just a couple of seconds. You shift the ‘wheel’ to the right and feel the slight pull of the ship as you turn in a half circle over the station, righting your direction to match the marked point on the map. The first hour or so on flights like this are usually spent steering the ship by hand. You don’t like the thought of flying so close to the planets, and so fast, without remote control. Though there’s not much space debris floating around out here for some reason. Likely the giant planet beside you cleared the area with its gravitational pull… or something. You’re not really sure how that stuff works. Jade was always more versed in the way space functioned, and what endless possibilities laid under the surface of planets. 

She used to be interested in space a long while ago when the two of you were little, long before she took up gardening. Something about dreams she had that captured her curiosity. She’d learned about how stars were born and how they died, massive black holes and pulsars, really anything that would probably impress anyone to hear coming from a 9-year-old. Meanwhile you had just sat beside her, laying against Bec with your face squished against his fur, half-listening while she read aloud from her textbooks. You think she’d love seeing this part of the galaxy, not unexplored but certainly hiding things left to be discovered. 

Dirk is sitting back in his seat, looking more relaxed than you’ve yet seen him be, with his gaze set on the moons passing by outside. His expression is set in what you’d guess is awe. You wonder how many views like this he’s seen before. Even though you’ve been piloting your ship for almost seven years now (not to mention when you worked for other companies, which makes it twelve years in space total) and still it never fails to make you pause a little just to appreciate the scenery. Maybe he feels the same way. 

You’re flying beside one of the moons-- a sand-colored one, with uneven white splotches along the side of it- when you raise your voice, eyes still set forward. 

“A while ago you said you’d been on a trip even longer than this one.” 

You feel his focus land on you again. “Yeah. I have.” 

“When? I mean… you don’t really seem like someone who travels a lot. Or… really… leaves the room in the first place.” 

“Haha. Funny.” He says, tone flat. “It was a while ago, I travelled from the south border and all fuck of the way to the north if that gives you any perspective. Somewhere not too far from old salt hell, you know.” 

“Wait,” you glance at him, eyes wide, “that would take like… three months, if you go by public transport.” 

“Yeah, well, lucky enough for me it only took one and a half because I travelled privately.” 

“Woah. Why were you in such a hurry to get to there?” You ask him, curious because to your knowledge there really isn’t anything around that area of the north border worth visiting. It’s mostly just industries and a distant sort of crossroad for people like you to pick stuff up. Cargo pilots, that is. They get jobs to ship things all over the galaxy from there. It sounds more exciting than it really is, honestly. Nobody with enough money to move away would stay there for long.

Dirk seems to falter in the conversation, and you turn your head in time to see him frown down at his lap. 

You pause, worried you might have touched on something personal-- you used to do that often as a kid, ask things without caring for emotions, make statements too blunt to be considered nice. Sometimes you still do that. 

“I’m sorry, you don’t need to te-” 

“No,” he cuts you off, “you didn’t say anything wrong. It’s not really important, I just had to get there quickly because something... needed fixing, and I was needed. That’s all.” 

He suddenly stands up from his seat, the bag of candy sliding from his lap onto the floor with the sound of plastic crinkling. He doesn’t seem to take any note of it. “I don’t mean to cut this joyride short, but I just remembered something in my room,” he says, “That I have to check up on.” 

“Oh?” you turn your head to watch him step around the chairs, leaving the view and your company behind him.“...Have fun?” 

The metal door doesn’t slam in its hinges, but it feels just as impactful when it closes behind Dirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for leaving such nice comments on the first chapter ;w; it's really super appreciated!! And motivates me to write more!! ALSO big thanks to my friend, u kno who u are, for reading through the bullshit I make at like 3 in the morning and then Make Sense of it. I love u.


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